1“What are you looking at?”
Conner Ashby glanced up from his computer. “Did you say something?” He made it sound so sincere. Gave her that distracted tone and that puzzled expression. He had the routine down to a science, and he enjoyed playing with her head. It was one of those things they had in common.
Liz Shaw stood in the doorway of his cramped bedroom, hands on hips. She wore just an oversized blue-and-orange New York Knicks T-shirt that fell to her knees. “Youre impossible,” she said. “Answer me.” From the doorway, she couldnt see the screen.
Conner grinned, impressed by Lizs ability to make casual cotton as sexy as black lace. She was gorgeous. Easily the most beautiful woman hed ever been with. “Im looking at my Schwab brokerage account.”
“Youre lying to me, Mr. Ashby.”
Conner winced. It wasnt the accusation that bothered him. It was the fact that Liz never used his first name. Her means of maintaining a subtle yet effective distance. “What are you talking about?”
“You dont have a Schwab account anymore.”
Conner fished an ice cube from a Bronx Zoo cup sitting beside his computer on the old desk, and ran it slowly across his bare chest. The air-conditioning had gone down a few hours ago, and he was wearing nothing but a pair of cargo shorts. “How do you know that?”
“I was on your computer last night before you got home. You closed your Schwab account. You, Mr. Ashby, are now an Ameritrade customer.”
“Hey, as modest as this hovel is, its my hovel,” he reminded her, trying to sound annoyed. “I pay the rent here and you had no right to go snooping around my computer.”
“Guilty as charged,” Liz agreed, moving to the foot of the bed. “But I did. So I know youre lying.” She gestured at the monitor. “Come on. What are you looking at?”
He glanced out the open window beside his desk at the lights of Manhattans Upper East Side. They were burning hazy holes in the humid August night. “Some surf shop Web site. Im gonna buy another board so I can—”
“I bet youre looking at smut.”
Conners eyes flashed to the screen. On it, a woman lay across a couch wearing a see-through teddy. She bore a strong resemblance to Liz—blond and slim with full, firm breasts straining at the frilly material.
“Turn the monitor this way,” Liz demanded, crawling onto the bed.
Conner clicked back to his screen saver, a panoramic shot of a surfer emerging from the pipeline of a huge wave. But he was a second late.
“I knew it,” she said triumphantly, kneeling upright as she reached the edge of the mattress. Shed caught a glimpse of the image on the screen. “Arent I enough?” she asked, slipping the T-shirt over her head and dropping it in his lap. “Or are you like most men? Obsessive about enjoying as many of us as possible.”
Conner let out a long, slow breath, admiring the work of art now on display. His eyes flickered down to the sapphire dangling from a gold ring in her navel. A body piercing seemed like the last thing a society girl would have, which was why he loved it. “Im like most men,” he confessed.
“At least you can admit it,” she murmured, slipping her arms around his neck and kissing him.
Conner laughed softly as their lips parted.
“Whats so funny?”
“What your father would say if he knew you were here.”
“Hed be horrified.”
“So he still thinks youre gonna marry Mr. Wonderful over at Morgan Sayers?”
“I still am.”
She was always so damn blunt about it. At least she usually remembered to remove the other mans three carats when she was here.
“Morgan Sayers is one of the worlds top investment banks, and Todd is one of its top investment bankers.” She said the words as if they were a mantra. “Todd is what my father wants. Hes the perfect son-in-law.”
He hated it when Liz said the other mans name. Hed never laid eyes on Todd, but he could still picture the bastard. A tight-jawed, suspender-wearing snob whod never really had to work for anything. “Then why are you here?”
Lizs expression turned distant. “Because of those beautiful blue eyes of yours, Mr. Ashby. Because you sing those Elvis songs to yourself all the time, even though you couldnt carry a tune if your life depended on it.” She sighed. “Because you gave me flowers last month when I was sick, and Todd didnt even notice I had a cough. Because every time Todd makes love to me, I want it to be you.” She hesitated. “Because youre what I want.”
“Then why dont you tell Todd to—?”
Liz cut him off with another kiss. “I cant,” she murmured, running her fingers through his jet-black hair. “Ive told you that so many times.”
“But youve never told me why.”
“I just cant,” she whispered, pulling him down onto the bed with her. “Im sorry.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“The weddings still a year away,” she reminded him. “Besides, this wont end after Im married. I could never be without you.”
Hed known early on what the deal was. She hadnt tried to hide her engagement. Their affair had begun as an instant physical attrac- tion across a crowded room. Something he had no commitment to, and, he assumed, would end quickly. But it had lasted now for three months, and he couldnt figure out how. He didnt usually waste time on dead ends.
“Im going to order out for Chinese,” Liz announced, reaching for the cordless phone on the nightstand. “Theres a place over on Second thats still open.”
He caught her hand. “Im tired of eating in front of the TV. Lets go out.” He could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times theyd been out in public together. “Come on.”
“No.”
“Liz.”
“No!”
“Dammit!” He rolled onto his back, frustrated.
She curled up next to him. “Im sorry. I really am.”
“If you were sorry, youd do something about it.”
Her expression turned sad. “I wish I could spend every night with you.”
“You could. Just tell Daddy youve found somebody else. Tell him you dont want to marry that hemorrhoid at Morgan Sayers. If he loves you, hell understand.”
“Maybe thats the point. Maybe he doesnt love me.”
“All the more reason to live life for yourself. Not for him.”
“Theres another thing,” she kept on, ignoring Conners irritation, “Id be cut off from the money.”
“So what?”
“Would you love me if I didnt have money?”
Conner rolled his eyes. “You must not think much of me if you have to ask.”
“Im just being realistic. If theres one thing I learned from Daddy, its that you have to look at everything that way. Even love.”
“Hey, I grew up in a run-down, three-bedroom ranch house a couple of blocks from a trashy beach. There was a 7-Eleven next door that got robbed once a week and a couple of sets of railroad tracks that ran right through my backyard. I mean, come on.”
“Which is exactly why you wouldnt want a woman like me. I could never earn serious money. I dont have any real skills.”
“Stop it,” he ordered, pressing a finger to her lips. He hated it when she did that. “I just want . . .” His voice trailed off.
“You just want what?”
There it was. His inability to acknowledge how badly he wanted something. In this case, her. But badly enough to have her end the engagement? “I just . . . I just want you to admit that I do have a nice voice.”
She laughed and kissed him on the cheek. “Oh, you do. As long as you dont try to sing.”
“Hey, lots of people tell me I—”
The phone rang.
“Arent you going to answer it?” she asked when he didnt pick up right away.
“Nah, its probably just some telemarketer. Or my boss.”
“You cant let a phone ring like that, Mr. Ashby. Its driving you crazy not to know who it is.”
He reached for the phone. She was getting to know him too well. “Hello.”
“Conner, its Jackie.”
“Hi there.” He raised up on one elbow, turning his back to Liz. It was always nice to hear Jackie Riveras voice. “How are you, Jo?”
Jackie had explained over a glass of wine one evening that shed been named for Jacqueline Onassis because her mother had admired the former first lady very much. So hed started calling her “Jo,” short for Jackie O.
“Im doing all right. But we havent gotten together in a while. Its been almost a month. I miss you.”
Hed been bad about keeping in touch with friends since meet- ing Liz.
“I left you a message at the office yesterday, Conner.”
“I know. Sorry about not getting back.”
“Its okay,” she said cheerfully. “Im sure youve been busy.”
“I have. So, whats the thought for the day?” He asked her this question almost every time they spoke.
There was a short silence. “When the door doesnt open right away, do you pull harder, or push?”
Conner chuckled, thinking about the times hed pulled harder when all he had to do was push. Understanding the deeper meaning. “Good one.”
“Thanks. So, when are we getting together? I—”
“Lets— Ouch! Dammit!” Conner spun around on the bed, wrenching himself away from a painful pinch.
“Get off the phone,” Liz hissed, staring at him with a steely expression.
Conner brought the receiver slowly back to his ear, still gazing into Lizs angry eyes. “Jo, let me call you tomorrow.”
“Sounds like this might be a bad time.”
“Yup.”
“Okay,” Jackie agreed with a sigh. “Talk to you then.”
“What was that all about?” he demanded.
“Youre with me right now, not her.”
“Christ! Youre the one whos engaged.”
“I dont care. I dont like her.”
“Why not?”
“Shes after you.”
“What! How can you say that?”
“Womans intuition.”
“Why would it matter to you if she was after me anyway?”
“Because Im a jealous bitch.”
Conner shook his head. “Youre crazy.”
“Maybe,” Liz murmured, kissing him. Almost savagely this time. “I want you,” she whispered, sliding one hand to his shorts.
But the phone rang again.
“Hello.”
“Its Ginger. Is Lizzy there?”
Conner let out a frustrated breath. Ginger and Liz rarely had short conversations.
“Its Ginger,” he said, holding the phone out.
“Oh.” Liz brightened. “Thanks.”
But he pulled the receiver away. “If youre so worried about your father or Todd finding out about us, why give my phone number to anyone?”
“Ginger would never tell a soul,” she assured him, leaning across his chest and grabbing the receiver.
“Sure she wouldnt.” But Liz hadnt heard him. Shed already reclined onto the bed and started talking.
Liz and Ginger worked together at Merrill Lynch, entertaining the firms wealthy international clients when they visited New York City. At least, that was what Liz had told him. She never allowed him to come to the office.
Liz didnt really have to work, but her father believed everyone ought to have a job—at least until they were married. Conner had heard that many times. Hed heard about her trust fund, too. Left to her by her grandfather and controlled by her father until her fortieth birthday.
From the Hardcover edition.